sephiroth, “tol alien boy”, SOLDIER first class. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
supersoldier) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
finalflight2019-12-14 12:21 am
supersoldier) wrote in finalflight2019-12-14 12:21 am
OPEN POST; [ SEPHIROTH / FFVII ]
those chosen by the planet.
((
those chosen by the planet.
((
welcome back to hell, we're still here
But he is Sephiroth, Shinra’s finest, the legendary SOLDIER and the man who won their war for them. There’s influence in a well-achieved celebrity status, in the authority he wields above the heads of the rank and file or the company’s army as a whole. Should he make a request, as rare as they are, it will come to fruition. This, he knows, and it is through this that he’ll make the short-notice trip possible. And so—]
Make yourself easy to find.
[And that seems to be all for now.
Until that night, against the vast, hazy backdrop of the Northern Crater; those jagged grey cliffs piercing the sky, cloistering the massive pockmark punched into Gaia’s crust. The landmark itself is huge and void-like, like a dead, open mouth left agape through the ages, making all those standing nearby feel infinitesimally small.
Except for Sephiroth, whose stature always seems unfazed by any and all around him, his appearance a bleary silhouette in the faded light — all but for those faintly glowing mako eyes, the trail of quicksilver hair, and the shine of Masamune’s long, curving steel as he approaches.]
Gets comfortable like I never left, because I didn't 8')
( That he still feels Sephiroth's approach before he sees him is, by Yazoo's estimation, a reasonably good sign. Bitter air draws in heavy and close with a weight that crackles through every cell of his being; it calls to him, demanding obedience and reverence in equal measures now that he's in the presence of his maker. Does Sephiroth feel it, too? Would he be able to recognise it for what it is, even if he could? Yazoo's lips pull into a distressed pout as he briefly considers the fact that Sephiroth may still reject him yet—that he might not be ready to accept the truth of what he was wrought into being to do.
I won't escape.
A chill begins to worm its way down the length of the Remnant's spine. It was a mistake to do this without the support of his brothers, and it was a mistake not to quietly encourage Kadaj take the helm as he always does. Yazoo is no negotiator, nor does he hold within his memory enough information to belabour his points, but the idea of their brother remaining in Shinra's grasp for even a moment longer made it impossible for him to wait. Now all that remains it to see whether it's a mistake that will cost him his life.
He made himself easy to find, as requested. Yazoo turns to watch the final few feet of Sephiroth's approach; he looks different, seems somehow a little younger around the eyes, but Masamune gleams knowingly in his hand as the light slides over its gentle curve. His expression remains carefully impassive as he pins his brother with that feline gaze, that matching mako-green clashing between their bodies to singe the air around them. )
... Brother.
( Said slowly, carefully. The Velvet Nightmare hangs by Yazoo's side, his left hand ready. )
Do you know why I asked you to come here?
now you're truly stuck with me forever
Like this, Sephiroth is greater in completeness than what Yazoo would recall. But perhaps that is more disturbing than comforting to someone who knows nothing else, like seeing a masterwork marred by unsteady brushstrokes, making the immaculate less perfect.
He tilts his chin up, looking at him with a slanted brow and searching eyes. This close, he is struck by a sensation he cannot pin down, grown stronger via proximity. Something magnetizing and alien when he looks at this man who shares too many of his own features, as though he could pick up the invisible slack between them, tug at it, and draw them both closer together.
Too new to be anything but disconcerting. Too natural to be anything but baffling. He is at a disadvantage, he feels, and he dislikes it wholly.]
Don’t call me that.
[Brother. The first hint of rejection, but only because he has not personally allowed any facet of truth or great revelation to come bearing down on him just yet. As always, Sephiroth doles out control on his own terms. He is more than aware of the firearm that hangs at the other’s side, a part of him already plotting out his actions should this all go pear-shaped.]
But no. I assume you intend to explain.
no subject
( Don’t call me that.
It shatters something deep within him to hear Sephiroth say it in person. Yazoo feels immediately unmoored: some small part of him had been clinging on to the possibility that meeting him in the flesh would right this wrong, but there isn't so much as a glimmer of recognition in that familiar-but-not visage. There's something—curiosity, maybe, or a twisted kind of fascination—but it isn't enough to make him understand what Yazoo's trying to tell him. )
But that's what you are. ( Said softly, matter-of-factly, as though speaking to a child. ) We're the same, you and I. Made from her to serve her will.
( Yazoo turns towards the crater. It calms him somewhat: a tangible reminder that for all Sephiroth may have forgotten who he is, Mother still lives within him. Surely it can only be a matter of time before he realises that he isn't simply different, he's chosen )
Her legacy begins here.
( A cool look slants back over his shoulder, his expression otherwise unreadable. )
This is where Mother first touched Gaia. It's where our destiny was designed.
no subject
He cannot imagine the tremors that shook the earth when the meteor struck it ages ago. What would it have looked like, to watch that manner of hellfire come careening down from the sky? It’s the same reason why he cannot reconcile the other’s explanation, as though fastening the idea of such cataclysmic force to the notion of “mother” is too paradoxical. Far too jarring, regardless of the sense it doesn’t make.
His eyes remain on Yazoo‘s back as he turns away.]
Stop speaking in riddles. This is the sight of a meteor impact, one that fell thousands of years ago.
[He steps forward, ignoring the vibrations resonating between them like a strummed wire.]
Your timeline is off, regardless of how non-sensical that explanation is.
no subject
It isn't a riddle.
( Yazoo's tone gives nothing away. He's always been the least readable of Sephiroth's Remnants: cool, detached, and calculating in a way that Loz and Kadaj couldn't relate to or understand. Tipping his hand too soon would be a mistake. Yazoo doesn't want Sephiroth to find a way in just yet—doesn't want to be picked apart before he knows what he's dealing with—and so he keeps his expression blank and his tone level as he lifts a hand towards the jagged side of the crater. )
We're both right. It brought her here.
( Those bright eyes slide shut for a moment as Sephiroth moves closer. Yazoo feels the resonance of energy between them pulling tighter, rippling harder, and when he opens his eyes again they gleam brighter for it. A thread of biting cold air whips at liquid silver as he tilts his head towards him again: )
This planet was supposed to be hers, but she had to wait. ( His gaze turns sharp again. ) For you. Her perfect son.
( This time a hint of envy laces his inflection, but he banishes it as quickly as it came. )
Don't you feel different to the others? To the humans who use you for their own gain?
no subject
And those bright eyes, which he once believed could belong to none other than himself, peering at him as though they had been stolen — keen and knowing.
It’s enough to wring out a reply from Sephiroth, where he would typically deflect. For Yazoo speaks of a subject that can tear him raw if he is not careful, the questioning of his differences an old insecurity, buried so deep that it will rend everything to pieces if it’s dredged up without care.
His jaw sets.]
I’ve always been different. [To the humans who use you for their own gain? The clear differentiation claws at him.] But that does not make me inhuman.
[He shores himself up with logic, bending itself into something steady in the wake of what he’s hearing.]
That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it? That this “Mother” is something from beyond this Planet? Tell me about her, if you're so certain.
no subject
Hm.
( Another shadow of a frown touches the corners of Yazoo's lips. It's baffling that Sephiroth is working so hard to cling to the idea of his alleged humanity: why would he want to be like the rest of them? Why would he value being different yet the same over being different and superior? Not that it matters all that much, of course: Sephiroth may be living in a state of ignorance, but ignorance can't alter the truth. )
Kadaj understands her best.
( Yazoo tilts his head, rolls his shoulder in a shrug. It doesn't seem to bother him all that much: the Remnants weren't made to ask questions, nor to pick apart what information they were or weren't given by their maker, and the fact that Kadaj both knows the most and makes their decisions seems nothing less than natural to him. )
He knows things I don't. Things you taught him, about her.
( A pause. )
But you're right. She came from somewhere far, far beyond this place.